Portrait of the Demon at Age 50
by JaganshiKenshin
Summary: Shizuru is having a really bad day, and so is the entire city. But when an old friend shows up, things could take a turn for the worse.
1. C1: Under Attack

Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the _Yuu Yuu Hakusho_ characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters

portrayed in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be met with the katana, or worse.

The events in _Idiot Beloved_ take place shortly after the Dark

Tournament; _Firebird Sweet_ directly follows that timeline. It's suggested you read those two before reading any of the other stories.

Title: Portrait of the Demon at Age 50 (C1: Under Attack)

Author: JaganshiKenshin

Genre: General

Rating: T

Summary: When Shizuru---and the entire city---is having a bad day, an old friend shows up. But could the situation turn deadly?

A/N: I've never used Shizuru as a viewpoint character before, but this little scenario kept nagging at me. Oddly plotless, it takes a look into the far future---thirty years after the setting of _Idiot Beloved_---and offers one possible pathway. This chapter (one of three) has been newly revised for the second time. It's one of the few stories to be featured only on ff-net and **not** also up and illustrated on my Live Journal, but please review anyway! With luck, Chapter 2 coming sooner rather than later.

Who is that demon?

Portrait of the Demon at Age 50 (C1: Under Attack)

by

Kenshin

On a day that went from bad to worse, Shizuru noticed that gray roots were glaring from her honey-tinted hair. She had been hurrying to dress in an unfamiliar hotel room in the middle of Meguro-ku, far south of her former haunts.

There was no time to tint the roots herself, much less schedule a touch-up at her old salon in the Shibuya district.

_I'm already late!_ she thought, dashing from the room.

In the elevator, she hastily opened a butterfly clip with her teeth, twisted her hair atop her head and rammed the clip home. That was the best she could hope for at the moment. Shizuru realized she had let her appearance slide. And on this critical day---

_I must look like a madwoman_.

The elevator deposited her in the lobby, and Shizuru caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. Wide-eyed, haggard, rumpled, she could only aspire to be called a madwoman.

Following a brief but frustrating tangle with the hotel's revolving doors, she raced down the street in search of a cab.

Nothing. Maybe she'd have better luck on the main drag. The broad avenue ran north-south, parallel to the harbor, but it, too, yielded no results. _Where's a cab when you need one?_

Then she was off again, headed north. Threading through foot traffic, Shizuru felt as though she was struggling with everything: the early morning hour, the air hot and dry with the end of summer, the lack of a lucky break. She paused on the street corner, about to cross against the light, when a chill raced along her bare arms, and an overwhelming premonition of doom blossomed in the pit of her stomach.

_Just like the old days,_ she thought.

The sky, cloudless though it was, flashed with ominous thunder and lightning.

Pedestrians stopped, bewildered, glancing about. An elderly man clutched his newspaper like a shield.

Then, the thunder faded, and with it the foreboding.

Almost a mile to the northwest lay Shizenyoikuuen, a national park, yet Shizuru could sense the rustle of distant leaves and the shrill pulse of cicadas.

She strained her sixth sense to the utmost. Like her appearance, it had gone a bit rusty, but---

Something was terribly wrong.

The old man next to her looked up, then pointed, his mouth cracked open in a wordless cry. He turned and scurried off in the opposite direction. Thunder pealed again. People scrambled away, screaming, staggering against Shizuru, clumsy in their efforts to flee.

Tokyo had been invaded.

Her overloaded sixth sense sizzled like oil frying in a skillet. Unable to move, trapped before a glass-fronted building, Shizuru helplessly allowed other people bump past her.

She had felt enormous, terrifying _ki_ before. She had witnessed most of the Dark Tournament, after all. Her brother's old pal Urameshi Yuusuke could once summon up a pretty good battle aura. One or two of her former acquaintances could match, and maybe even surpass that.

But this---this felt like pure evil, something from another world. Even as the thought crossed her mind, Shizuru heard a ground-shaking roar. Loud and all-encompassing, it could have come from anywhere.

_Gojira?_ she wondered; _Not him again!_

The sidewalks had cleared now. Everyone else had fled. Able to move at last, she ran into the middle of the street, and peered into the distance.

At the end of a small cross-street just to the east, visible between banks of buildings that stood close to the harbor, towered something that dwarfed them.

Not Gojira, but a monster, nonetheless.

Greenish-black of hue, it was thickly built in a travesty of the human form. It had a bovine head from which bristled a crown of four horns. Four tusks like a wild boar's jutted from its muzzle, and its four arms ended in clawed hands. It was as though some mad scientist had crossed a Hindu godling with the father of all bulls.

For a monster that size, it was fast. Flicking its arms, it smashed great gaping holes in the buildings that dared to impede its progress toward Shizuru.

She scrambled back for the meager shelter of the glass-fronted building. A miasma of destruction billowed toward her, made of dust and ashes, smelling of burnt wire. It settled like a low-lying fog, obscuring her immediate surroundings.

But it did not obscure the sight of the monster. High above the miasma, it seemed to look straight at her, and bellowed a challenge not of words but intent.

She could read its malice, sense its thoughts, somewhere deep in her belly. Curling an arm around her stomach, she tried to block it out, failed.

--**I am come**, it said. **Worship me or die**.

It stamped a cloven hoof, shook the ground. Windows shattered, showering the street with razor shards of glass.

When the jangle of breaking glass stopped, an oddly loaded silence settled. Even the monster appeared to have stopped for the moment. But why?

Straining her ears, Shizuru heard the sound of approaching footsteps, slow and measured. A breeze skirled the smoke to shreds, revealing the source of those steps.

It was a man. He strolled down the street toward the glass building---headed in the direction of the monster.

_No, that's just plain wrong. People run away from giant monsters._

As the man drew parallel with her, Shizuru recognized him. With his black mantle and black-flame hair punctuated by slashes of white, he still resembled some medieval knight on errantry.

Shizuru opened her mouth to shout a warning, but no sound emerged.

The horned monster awaited, a carnage of ruin stacked around its feet like playtoys.

Ambling toward destruction and death, the black-clad man looked about as worried as someone out for a Sunday jaunt in the park---hardly the demeanor of someone about to fight a horned monster hundreds of times his size, and, judging from its battle aura, also many hundreds of times his strength.

For Shizuru's old acquaintance wasn't emitting any aura to speak of. Perhaps his once-formidable attack powers were gone.

The monster flung out its arms and roared another challenge:

--**Bow down before me, sewer-rat!**

"Nothing doing." The unhurried man spoke so softly Shizuru wondered how she could hear him at all. "But I'll make you a counter-offer. For a limited time only, you can escape with your life. Return to the demon plane, and I'll spare you."

The horned monster gave an answering bellow. A panel of glass crashed down inches from Shizuru's head.

--**Is this the best Ningenkai has to send against me? A pitiful shred of a rodent?**

"The best?" The man in black had not even taken his hands from his pockets. "Maybe not, but I'm on duty today."

--**Then kneel before me and call me your god. I'll allow you to live one moment longer.**

"Tempting as it sounds, no."

**--Do you imagine that you can defeat the likes of me?** Leering, the monster casually backhanded a building into rubble. In the distance, sirens wailed.

The man gave a world-weary sigh. "I'd really rather you didn't make me do this." Hands still in pockets, for the first time he manifested a little of his aura.

Shizuru gasped. It was like someone opening the floodgates, but not to Hell---

---a wind swirled around the lone figure, tearing at his black mantle, whipping up a silvery glow of spiritual power. Slowly the aura swelled, expanding like liquid pearls in the tornado of _ki_ that surrounded him.

There was a sense of barely-cloaked power in that opaline glow that slammed ice through her bones.

The horned monster opened its dripping jaws, displayed formidable yellow tusks. With a subsonic rumble, it promised to destroy the insignificant creature before it, and in the process take out every inch of Tokyo.

"Right." The lone warrior nodded. "But your opponent is not this city, or its people. Your opponent is me."

---**Then reap the rewards of your arrogance!** The horned monster raised all four hands. Thunder crashed in the cloudless sky. Lightning gathered, crackling, then flew to its fists like a double handful of wild, hissing snakes.

_It can use lightning_, mused Shizuru. _Lightning's made of plasma, right? Plasma's deadly._

---**Die!**

The horned monster hurled a double dose of lightning at the black-mantled figure---an attack that could vaporize half the city, let alone a small and solitary fighter.

But the fighter's silver-pearl aura leapt out to meet the attack, curving into a dome-shaped shield some 40 feet in diameter. The plasma struck, screaming in vain as the shield absorbed its deadly force without so much as a shiver.

Raising his own hand, the monster's small opponent gathered a tiny bit of the pearled aura into his fist. The handful of aura seemed to respond to his touch, glowing like a captive star, humming with an unearthly power that set Shizuru's teeth on edge.

Sliding to the ground, Shizuru hugged her knees to her chest. The light from that minute fistful of aura was so piercing she had to slit her eyes, and still it grew, even at that distance raising the hair along her arms.

The glow was filled with an intelligence, a purpose. She sensed it yearning for release like an attack dog, clearly in opposition to the monster. Yet power such as this could also lay waste to the city.

_Of all the rotten luck! I have unfinished business! _

The horned monster summoned another double handful of lightning, flung it at the black-clad figure. The shield leapt out, met the lightning, absorbed it.

---**Why won't you die?** snarled the beast.

The dark knight flicked a single finger at the monster, releasing an arrow of silver flame. The arrow soared upward to bury itself between the monster's eyes. "After you."

The monster reeled back, howling in pain and outrage, clawing at the arrow with all four hands. Its greenish-black hide rippled in waves of agony.

Shizuru ducked, covering both eyes and ears. A jolt like an earthquake shook her guts, shook the breath from her.

Air! She needed air. _Can't... die... here... hold on!..._

And at last the Shizuru was able to suck in a single precious breath, then lay gasping, filling her lungs until she recovered enough strength to struggle to her knees.

There was ringing and pressure in her ears, but she could still hear somewhat, though her eyes burned from smoke and dust. Cautiously Shizuru lifted her head and peered up from between her fingers.

The horned monster stood frozen, hands still clapped to its head. The would-be destroyer gave one last shudder, then fizzled out of existence with a pop like a small firecracker.

Its conqueror stood at his ease, hands in pockets. Then, with that same leisurely gait, he strolled back the way he came.

Shizuru's mouth went dry. _I don't know him any more---don't know him at all! If he can do that to a monster the size of the _Queen Mary_, what will he do to me?_

_Please,_ she urged him silently. _Go away. Don't turn your head. Don't look at me, don't_---

Bit he stopped when he reached the vestibule of the glass-fronted building. He spotted her, walked toward her. His slow, measured footsteps counted out her last moments.

His mouth opened. The familiar voice, deep, deceptively lazy, spoke her name: "Shizuru?"

She looked up at him, too terrified to speak.

He regarded her steadily for a moment, while her heart hammered in her throat. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Did you see the battle?"

She nodded, afraid to deny it.

He drew closer, boots crunching on the rubble of shattered glass, then stopped, glanced down.

He bent to pluck something from the sidewalk and studied it briefly before handing it to her. "Is this yours?"

Her fingers curled around a spiked plastic form. The butterfly clip. It must have been blown right out of her hair.

And while she was examining this small miracle, he reached out, took her hand in his, and pulled her to her feet, where she stood, jelly-legged.

His hand felt warm and dry and utterly normal. It surprised her. She thought his touch would burn.

"Come on," he said, snaking an arm around her waist. "Let's get you someplace less public."

(To be continued: Is Shizuru headed toward an even greater peril?)

-30-


	2. C2: In Search of the Lost Thought

Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the _Yuu Yuu Hakusho_ characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters presented in this work---animal, demon, human or other. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be met with the katana, or worse.

The events in _Idiot Beloved_ take place shortly after the Dark Tournament; _Firebird Sweet_ directly follows that timeline.

Title: Portrait of the Demon at Age 50 (C2: In Search of The Lost Thought)

Author: JaganshiKenshin

Genre: General

Rating: T

Summary: Shizuru is out of the frying pan, but into the fire of a faded memory.

A/N: After leaving the preview of _Portrait_ up for so long I have finally revised it, and now C2 is here. C3, alas, will take somewhat longer to complete. Please review!

I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date....

Portrait of the Demon at Age 50 (C2, In Search of The Lost Thought)

by

Kenshin

Shizuru had never been carried by Hiei before.

It was odd, the way the transit occurred: how he so easily supported her, with her greater height. All she sensed was a brief breathlessness, a bounce or three, and then they touched down in front of a small cafe, far uptown of the destruction. The distant wail of sirens was their only companion.

Shizuru had first met Hiei at the long-ago Dark Tournament, and although they had not exchanged two words, his actions revealed him as a brutally efficient killer who had nonetheless refused to slay a fallen, helpless enemy---even at that enemy's behest.

Nor had she ever been particularly afraid of Hiei, once she got to know him better. Still, she hadn't seen him in---how many years? And to casually launch an attack of such magnitude---

Some of her fear had dissipated, leaving her to wonder whether her reaction was to Hiei himself, or merely the aftermath of witnessing the horned monster's demise at his hands.

Eyes burning from smoke and silver light, Shizuru couldn't see very well. But the cafe seemed cheerful enough, with four tables lined up against the large window that faced the street. A long counter with coffee machines lined the opposite wall, and against the back wall was a door and a large refrigerator case filled with drinks. No cashier was in evidence.

After depositing Shizuru at the nearest table, Hiei went to pour two coffees. Leaving entirely too much money on the counter, he grabbed a packet of biscotti from the display, stuck it in his teeth, and brought it all back at one trip.

He balanced it well. But then he had always had superb balance.

Although the heartening aroma of coffee filled Shizuru's senses, part of her insisted this could not be happening.

"The barista's probably spacing out in the bathroom." Hiei spoke around the packet clenched in his teeth, then took it out. "Even at this distance, people tend to do that when I...." He shrugged, trailing off. "If they remember seeing anything, they think it was just some random flash of light bouncing off a window." He slid the packet of cookies and a coffee across the table for her. In the saucer lay a spoon and two tablets of sugar. "I'm not surprised you could remember it, though. Your sixth sense was always the strongest among us."

Remember? Trembling, Shizuru could make no reply, whether because the cafe was cold, or she was still battling fear.

Unwinding his white scarf, Hiei draped it over her shoulders, still warm from his own fierce heat. Then he pushed the cup into her hands, allowing its warmth to seep through her.

"Hold still," he commanded. Tilting back her head, Hiei thumbed one eye open, and from a small white bottle, deposited soothing drops in her eyes. "Better?" Nodding, Shizuru blinked.

Hiei was therefore in perfect focus when he settled across from her, pinched a pair of contact lenses from his own eyes, and anointed himself as well.

_Contact lenses?_ Shizuru wondered. _Vision problems?_ At a cursory glance, Hiei looked very much the same as he always had: bristling black hair with its white starburst, white headband that acted as a ward for his third eye, the other two eyes a clear, hard scarlet.

But she could not shake the strong feeling that something about the situation was unreal. Woozy, lightheaded and altogether unsteady, Shizuru considered the possibility that this was a dream. She had overslept on this crucial day. But this day was crucial---why?

Hiei now regarded her steadily, causing her to run self-conscious fingers through her graying roots. It was as if Hiei was cataloging each line, each wrinkle, but if he passed judgment, he kept it to himself. "Can you hear yet?"

"Well---" She knew her voice was too loud. "My ears are still ringing, but yes."

"I can't. Not at all."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "But you sound---"

"Normal? I've learned to read lips and modulate my voice. In a while I'll be able to hear again." Hiei picked up the contact lenses, which appeared to have a gray tint to them. "These things keep me from going blind, but they're a one-use deal." So saying, he vaporized them.

"I hope you travel with a spare."

"In spades," he assured her. "Could have used them back when I first learned the Sword of the Archangel, though."

"Sword of the Archangel? I seem to remember that attack."

"Oh? You have a good memory then."

_So why can't I remember... remember... whatever it is I can't seem to remember?_

Hiei pushed the packet of biscotti closer to her. "Go on, eat these. You'll feel better."

"What about you?"

"Me?" He gave a long-suffering sigh. "Can't eat anything for at least an hour, else it comes right back up. You wouldn't like that." Some of the old glint had returned to his eyes. "I like it even less."

She left the biscotti lying on the sun-streaked table. "What was that just now?"

Hiei lifted his coffee, made as if to sip, then shuddered and put it down untasted. "What was what?"

"Whatever you did to the monster back near the harbor. You didn't use a sword. You didn't announce an attack. I've never seen---or felt---anything like it."

He shrugged. "I hardly know myself."

"When did you learn it? Who--"

"I didn't exactly learn it, in the sense that no one taught me. It was given to me. I don't know by whom." Idly, his fingers toyed with the Rosary around his neck. It was white, the beads reflecting a faint glow, as though they were pearl.

_Must've cost a pretty penny_, mused Shizuru. "That's a new one, isn't it? The Rosary you used to wear was brown."

He nodded. "Wooden beads. _She_ gave it to me when we met. Shay-san. This is the same one."

"But that's not wood." Shizuru took a gulp of coffee. It tasted real enough: strong, dark, a touch bitter. She unwrapped a sugar tablet and tipped it in, stirring with the spoon.

"Wood?" Hiei stifled a yawn. "Probably not now it isn't." He lifted the pearl-toned Crucifix; as he did so Shizuru could see that the Rosary did not so much reflect a glow as to emanate one of its own.

"The beads changed," he went on. "Gradually, over the years, lightening up, turning from wood to---something else. Maybe it was from exposure to the Sword of the Archangel. All I know is that after the beads turned completely white, I woke up and knew I had acquired this power. I had to teach myself to control it though, just like I did with the Jagan Wave."

"But that thing you defeated back there." She tried to open the biscotti, but her hands were too unsteady. Reaching across the table, Hiei tore the packet open. "Was that an S-class demon?"

"Some half-wit is always smashing through the barrier somewhere." He lifted his lip in a show of disdain. "I have a term for them. Grease-spots."

Such a statement would have seemed sheer bravado had she not just seen Hiei back up his words with action.

Shizuru reached into a pocket for her cigarettes. Her hands were shaking even now, shattering the first cigarette she fumbled from the pack. She slid out another, which remained intact.

Producing a tiny spark from the end of one finger, Hiei lit it. She wondered whether it was the same finger he had used to destroy the horned monster.

This was insane. A creature worse than Gojira had attacked the city, and here they were at a cafe, chatting about it as though they had not been real-life participants in the drama, but were discussing something seen in the movies.

Or maybe it was the only possible way for them both to maintain sanity.

Shizuru blew a long calming ribbon of smoke. "You're still fighting demons?"

"Once you sign on to this program, you can never leave." He snorted. "It's worse than the Yakuza. They only chop off your pinky."

Now that was just the sort of thing Hiei used to say.

"Father Brian once told me I was the first demon to work for Rome in, oh, a century. But he had his facts wrong. I'm the first in a millennium."

"Really?" She nibbled at a lemony biscuit, but it was dry and resisted her efforts to consume it. "A thousand years is a long time. This other demon, do you know who he was?"

_"She."_ He shot her a sidelong look. "And she left no progeny. So I'm the only demon to not only work for Rome, but also to contribute to the gene pool."

Gene pool... Shizuru frowned in puzzlement.

"Something?" Hiei prodded.

"I'm---not sure." She studied the end of her cigarette. Progeny. Gene pool. Those terms---

_Never mind._ "And are you still a member of Team Urameshi? With an attack like yours, they wouldn't need anyone else."

"Urameshi would dispute that." He gave a crooked grin. "And Kurama still conjures a mean Rose Whip whenever I manage to drag him away from his practice---and Maya---to fight alongside me."

She felt a mild sense of surprise. "Kurama's a doctor?"

Hiei opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again; Shizuru got the feeling that this was something she should know, but had forgotten.

Hiei shrugged. "He said he got sick of being my personal physician and wanted a chance to make some real money. I only think he was kidding."

"And your other attacks? Or did you lose them?"

"What do you take me for? I didn't want to waste time, that's all, with the monster wrecking public property."

"Still have your fire, too." She took a long, grateful drag of the cigarette. "That always comes in handy."

"Fire?" He rotated the cup in its saucer, staring at it as though he were reading tea leaves. "Yeah, fire. When I finally caved and agreed to help Uncle Brother Thomas write his fire demonary, we really dug up some, ah, interesting knowledge." An odd form of _ki_ swirled around Hiei at that moment, then vanished, much too quickly for Shizuru to catch hold of or understand.

_Like my memory._ The barest flicker of a man's face crossed her mind, then vanished as quickly as Hiei's odd burst of _ki_.

Hiei. Master of the Jagan. At one time, he and Shay-san had lived in the Kuwabara house. Shizuru studied him through a veil of cigarette smoke. She and Hiei were around the same age, weren't they? That would make him...

"Fifty," Hiei supplied.

_Fifty?_ "Time flies when you're having fun," she sighed.

Unlike Shizuru, Hiei didn't look his age. The heart-shaped face might have appeared a touch more angular in the strong slanting light. Then again, maybe not. And maybe there was a new line or two at the outer corners of the crimson eyes, but their gaze held the same liquid, amused insolence.

"Fun? I could use a doctor now." Flicking off his mantle, Hiei stretched, grimaced. Every bit as built, too---even more so, the shoulders a shade broader, the arms a touch thicker.

"If only humans aged as well as demons," she lamented. "But then, you live practically forever."

"Not this demon." Covering himself once more, Hiei resumed his seat, and tilted his head to gaze out the window. The sun painted pale streaks across his profile. Still looking away from Shizuru, he added, "Turns out I may not have that much time left."

(To be concluded: Will Shizuru remember? And what does Hiei mean?)

-30-


	3. C3: Life Expectancy

Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the _Yuu Yuu Hakusho_ characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters presented in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be met with the katana, or worse.

The events in _Idiot Beloved_ take place shortly after the Dark Tournament; _Firebird Sweet_ directly follows that timeline, and _Portrait_ leaps far ahead into one possible future event. In a certain way, it's a corollary tale to _Death by Hiei_.

Title: Portrait of the Demon at Age 50 (C3: Life Expectancy)

Author: JaganshiKenshin

Genre: General

Rating: G

Summary: Shizuru hears a shocking confession, and struggles to recall what brought her to the city in the first place.

A/N: Sword of the Archangel, first introduced in _IB_, expanded in _DBH_, here takes on an entirely new meaning. As always, thanks to my faithful few---please keep reading and reviewing! ^^

What is the secret of Hiei's melancholy?

Portrait of the Demon at Age 50 (C3: Life Expectancy)

by

Kenshin

"Not much time left?" Shizuru blinked at Hiei, uncertain of how to interpret what she had just heard. "But I thought demons were----"

"Immortal? Some are. Or nearly so." Light streamed in from the window; Hiei turned his face toward its warmth. "Just not this one."

Shizuru tried to process what she had just heard, for although Hiei had indeed been a friend, he was not Shizuru's closest, by any means, and they had lost touch. Still, this pronouncement came as a shock. "What on earth do you mean?"

Rising, Hiei stretched again. He strolled to the counter, examined a display rack containing gum, candy and cookies, before lifting the coffeepot. Shizuru watched, her curiosity and impatience mounting.

Hiei returned to the table to pour fresh coffee, emptying the pot. As he leaned forward, sunbeams danced along the pearls of his Rosary.

When he sat, she repeated her question. "Well? What is that supposed to mean---'not much time left?'"

"Know what's funny?" Hiei turned his gaze to the window again. "The older I get, the stronger I become, the more I think of the mission, and the less I want to fight."

Hiei, not wanting to fight? Then this had to be a dream. "Hilarious. Now stop sidestepping my question and tell me exactly what you mean by not having much time left."

Hiei shot her a look that seemed---what? Wistful, regretful? She narrowed her eyes, and this time, employed what was left of her shredded sixth sense.

No, Hiei's expression was neither wistful, nor filled with regret. He was, in fact, resigned. Almost peaceful.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this." Hiei matched her look for look. "Maybe you won't remember. Or maybe I just need someone to know." One finger traced the outline of his cup and saucer. "Fire demons---they're a peculiar breed. Live fast, die young, leave a lot of _other_ corpses. If I were pure fire demon, by my age, I'd be insane, or dead. It's possible my Kourime heritage gives me added years, except---"

A police car drove past the window, cherry-top flashing. Hiei paused while it whirled its warning through the street.

"Except," he continued, "that every time I use Sword of the Archangel, every time I employ Holy Fire---"

The police car had gone, taking its red beacon with it.

"Fire illuminates," said Hiei. "But it also consumes."

"If I wanted Physics 101 I'd ask Kazu."

Hiei lifted his gaze to Shizuru's. "Every time I employ Holy Fire...it takes a little bit of my life."

The street resumed its ghostly silence.

"No way," Shizuru whispered.

Hiei again turned his face to the window. "If I knew what I was signing up for back then, I'd have run. Screw the woman, screw the twins, I'd have blasted a hole in the barrier myself and disappeared back into _Makai_."

Outside, sunlight flickered across the world Hiei had sworn to protect.

"Liar," she said flatly.

He sighed, turning back to her. "And here I used to be such a good one."

She sipped at her warm but bitter brew. "Get me another sugar, would you?"

When Hiei returned with the sugar, she prompted, "Well?"

"They say my rate of cellular decay is very similar to a human's of my age. Maybe a little slower. A lot of technical details that maybe Kurama or Thomas McNeil could explain more than I could. Your brother could do even better."

"That slacker?" Shaking her head in disbelief, Shizuru added sugar to her coffee, took a small grateful sip.

"Kurama's the one who's studying my genetics. Uncle Brother Thomas got hold of some fire demon DNA samples, don't ask me how. But it was Kazu who did the research which led to that particular conclusion."

Softening her biscotti in the warmed, sweetened brew, Shizuru ate half of it in a single bite. It tasted of candied lemon peel. "You sure we're speaking of the same person?"

"The big carrot-top, right? Favorite science teacher at St. Mary's Private Academy for girls? By the way, he's fine. Yukina's fine. Your niece and nephew are fine. Doesn't that idiot ever call you?"

"He calls to give me grief because of..." She stopped, scowling. "... something or other." She gave a dry laugh. "Kazu yelling at me---now that's a switch." _Why can't I remember what he wanted?_

"Relax. You saw the battle head-on, so you're in a kind of shock state. It'll take a while to recover. I won't leave until you're okay."

Shizuru found Hiei's concern for her oddly touching. Was such behavior normal for him these days? "Well!" She spoke with a brightness she did not feel. "And what about your progeny? How many grandkids is it now?"

"Six. Not that many."

"Aren't you awfully young for six grandkids?"

"I started early, and my daughter followed in Daddy's footsteps. Four of 'em, that CeeCee. Two are Michael's. My idiot brother-in-law really _doesn't_ tell you anything, does he?"

Shaking her head, she dipped the biscotti again and ate the other half. "What's it like, being a grandparent?"

"Expensive."

"I should call more often."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Phone lines go both ways. And you've got your own problems, right?"

She blinked. _Problems?_

"I'd show you pictures of the 'progeny' but I don't take my ID into battle any more."

"Why not?"

"Last June, while I was beheading three or four B-class demons that were terrorizing a school, my wallet fell out. I became the victim of identity theft." He grimaced at the memory. "Wasn't pretty."

"I can display pictures and you know it!" A muted and tinny male voice declaimed this from somewhere in the vicinity of Hiei's pocket. "Why won't you let me out to play?"

Sighing, Hiei dug into his mantle and removed a little device. Its dull gray plastic surface looked somewhat like the latest model handhelds everyone carried, but it was only about half the size of a pack of cigarettes---far smaller than any Multicore Shizuru had ever seen.

"Why?" Hiei echoed its question. "Because I find you obnoxious. Now shut up before I incinerate you."

"You wouldn't dare!" The note of fear in its voice was almost comical. Shizuru was beginning to remember why she had liked Hiei in the first place.

"Wouldn't I? Why don't you ask Rome what happened to your twenty-three predecessors?" He shoved the device back in his pocket. "Some geek in Central thought it would be cute to program these things with personalities, but each seems worse than the last. They're called Executive Assistants---why they named this model Loki is obvious."

Shizuru grinned. "Loki, Norse god of discord?"

"I'm an excellent Executive Assistant," protested Loki. "In fact I did some executive assisting just now."

Hiei took Loki from his pocket again. "Did what?"

"Told Shay-sama where you are."

"Good for you," Hiei murmured absently.

"I told her you're in a coffee shop sharing cookies with an attractive blonde."

"You are well and truly fried, you know that?" But Hiei was laughing when he flicked his gaze toward Shizuru. "She'll be sorry she missed you, my firebird. But I have no doubt we'll see each other again, and next time---"

Loki interrupted. "Should I tell her you gave the blonde your scarf?"

"You do that," crooned Hiei. "Have fun joining those 23 little piles of plastic ash in an unmarked grave."

Shizuru laughed again. _Lord knows I need it._

"I was supposed to be in rehearsal today," grumbled Hiei. "An ad for the new Namiki Laser-Fry Skillet. I represent the laser action---beating up vegetables with a sword."

"Sounds retarded."

"I don't write 'em, just show up and collect my paycheck."

"I kind of miss you two. It was fun when you were still living in the house."

"Fun? You couldn't wait to get rid of us."

"Oh?" Shizuru narrowed her eyes, fishing for recall, pondering the distant past. "Oh. I remember now. At one point I was writing my name on half the eggs and tofu to keep you from taking them."

"Always hated tofu, but the eggs---"

This time they shared a laugh, and then Shizuru sobered. _My son,_ she thought, and the thought vanished. Something about writing names on eggs...

"I miss those days myself," Hiei admitted. "Back when everyone was young and foolish. I still miss Genkai-shihan."

Shizuru watched a curl of smoke ascend and hang near the ceiling, like a thought half-visible. "People get old. They die. Sometimes they die young." She glanced again at Hiei's Rosary. "That priest of yours still alive?"

"Father Brian? Too stubborn to die by far, but he's getting up in years. Against the day he can't go on, they've been searching for a replacement. Won't be the same. Whoever they get is likely to be my age, maybe younger. How's some new priest going to terrorize me and call me a little pissant if I feel like his uncle?" Swirling his untasted coffee, Hiei went from jokes to melancholy in a flash. "Time, Shizuru. Time eats us all. And when we're young, we're too stupid to realize each soul is unique and precious."

"He hates me," Shizuru said abruptly.

"Who does?"

"My son."

"Kappei?" Hiei slanted an eyebrow at her. "And you say this because...?"

"I remember now." It was difficult to hold on to the memory; it wanted to dissipate, like her cigarette smoke, but instead sharpened into clarity, perhaps focused by the recall of eggs. "The year he moved out----" Kappei had been 18; he was now 24. "Just before that, he took to writing his name on the eggs, too: _Hands off my stuff._"

Hiei shook his head. "Kappei doesn't hate you. Far from it. In fact he confided---" He stopped. "No. A confidence remains a confidence."

She shot him a sour glance. "You always were tight-lipped."

"Such family matters are best resolved by family members."

"Aren't you the one who keeps reminding me we're related?"

"I am." He gave her a look of ineffable sadness. "I can say this: he just wishes his mother could be happy."

Resolved. Family matters. Happy. _I'll think of it in a moment_, she promised.

Then something entirely new claimed her attention, driving out any other thought.

"Uhhh...." Shizuzu's eyes widened. A little man-shaped creature, the size of a toad and twice as ugly, had hopped onto the back of a chair. It had orange hide, a dark mane of hair, horns, and wore a tiny toga that looked like tiger's skin. It was _leering_ at her.

"A jaki. Behind me, right?" Hiei turned half-way round.

The mini-demon bowed and scraped. "How may I serve you, Hiei-sama?" It spoke in a surprisingly gruff voice.

"You know about the battle just now?"

The jaki nodded, wrung its claws in cringing subservience.

"If only Loki was half as obedient." Hiei flicked it another over-the-shoulder glance. "Go tell any demons with half-baked ideas of world domination to stay put, or---"

"Immediately, Hiei-sama!" The jaki poised to spring away.

"Hold it." Hiei reached for a biscotti, broke off a piece, and handed it to the jaki. Its thanks were as effusive as its previous toadying.

"Go on," said Hiei, cutting it short. In a flash, the jaki leapt from the chair and fled the coffeeshop.

Hiei rolled his eyes. "I have a 'following,'" he said, stifling another yawn.

"And a need for a nap."

"In time. This attack's not like the Dragon was, or even Sword of the Archangel, which knocked me flat out, but it does take its toll. I usually sleep it off for a couple of hours."

She was about to tell him some things can't be slept off, but thought better of it. Such a statement would only remind Hiei of his own mortality---a date that loomed much closer than she would have previously guessed. "Then why are you still here when you could be---"

"No, Shizuru-san. This isn't just two old friends catching up over coffee. Though technically speaking, as you said, two in-laws. I don't believe in coincidences. I'm not going home yet because my job's not finished."

"Not finished?" She stiffened. "There's another monster?"

"No, no," he soothed. "Not another monster. But I believe you were placed in my path today for a reason. So..." He tilted his head, echoing the jaki's words: "How may I serve you?"

Odd, Hiei asking this. Or was it?

"I..." Frowning, Shizuru grasped at a fleeting glimpse of a man's face, a tantalizing sense of urgency. Then, gone.

No. Couldn't remember. So she began talking, even babbling, just to fill the silence. "Here I haven't seen you in, oh, forever, and when I finally do, you've got this unbelievable aura, and I had no sense of it until you fought. In fact I was going to call out, warn you to get back. It's almost as if you keep your _ki_ elsewhere, like in some other dimension, and only take it out when you need it."

"You're very close to the way it actually happens."

"Tell me, then."

Hiei gave her a very credible smirk. "Some things are better left unknown."

"Wish I knew why I was in the path of that monster."

"Maybe we can figure that out. You're a long way from Honshu. Are you here to give the idiot a piece of your mind?"

Again, a evanescent name, accompanied by a thought, a face: a smiling face. He wore glasses----

Gone.

"Maybe." She stared morosely at her coffee. "It's always a good idea to give Kazu a piece of my mind."

"Or did you come for a shopping spree? I could always drop you at Takashimaya with the rest of my expense account. That's if you can stop looking at me like I was Hannibal Lecter."

Automatically she denied it.

"Quit faking," Hiei said. "After all he was supposed to have maroon eyes and a killer's heart."

"That never bothered me."

"The eyes or the heart?" Hiei's glance was pure mischief. "And Lecter could read minds. Just like me."

"You---!" Shizuru gasped. "I never asked you how old you were! You read my---"

"Nah. That would be unethical. But you're right---you never flat-out asked my age. The question was simply written all over your face."

"Then... this isn't a dream?"

"It's quite real, Shizuru. And you're scared of me."

"I'm not." She tried getting another cigarette out of her pack, but her hands were still clumsy. "Skip it. I ought to cut down anyway."

"Now I know you're rattled."

"Nice try."

"Come off it. You haven't seen me in fifteen years, don't know who I am or what I've become and you just watched me drift from the shadows to obliterate something the size of a city block with a single flick of my finger. I'd be scared, too."

"I'm not scared," she repeated. "Well, not much."

"Just as well that I'm no longer so keen on fighting. With an attack of such magnitude and a vile temper---imagine what would happen if I let go." He gave her a steady, measuring look. "I think there's a reason I wasn't given this new attack until recently. Maybe I couldn't fully control my temper before now. Grandkids will teach you to do that."

"But your Assistant---you were going to burn him."

He winked at her. "Though it's true I did incinerate the first couple of models. They had it coming, the snotty little---I requested a politeness generator after that but it doesn't seem to be working."

She crushed out the stub of her cigarette. "Fear's a better means of control anyway."

"Shizuru, your cynicism doesn't always suit you."

In answer, she lit another cigarette with hands that no longer shook, and blew a ribbon of smoke at him.

"It's a shield for your pain," Hiei continued. "Of all the people you know, I probably understand this the best."

She drew smoke into her lungs, held it a moment, released it. "And that's probably why we used to get along."

"You don't have to prove how strong you are."

"Who, me?"

"And I also know you're drawn to damaged souls. Like Sakyou. Trust me, I'm the original model. You want to serve them, want your love to redeem them, but---"

"You're wrong about that." _But he's not,_ she thought, _he's not. And you find it nearly impossible to accept love when it does come_. She fought, pushed people away, assumed a mask of toughness, was too stiff-necked to apologize. _Can't change my ways now. Too old._

The thought frightened her. She watched her smoke wreath Hiei's hair and spoke to reaffirm her statement. "You're wrong. Kenichi is normal as air, so there goes your theory. No damaged soul, no addiction to gambling, no addiction to race cars. No vices, no bad habits. Doesn't even smoke, for pity's sake."

Now Hiei really did look tired; head drooping as though he was too weak to hold it up. "Sorry we weren't at the funeral," he said, out of nowhere.

"Funeral?" This alarmed her. Who had died?

"We were in Brazil, of all places," he continued. "Back then, my---superiors, they didn't have their current transport system on line."

"Transport system?"

He stopped for another yawn. "I don't know whether you're authorized to hear this, but you probably won't remember anyway. Central has instituted a worldwide transport net. So travel time has really---"

"I didn't mean the transport net. I meant...." Shizuru frowned. "Funeral?"

"Your first husband," he said gently. "Yasuda Shigeru."

"Oh." She stabbed another biscotti into her coffee. The cookie broke in two and she tried fishing it out, but it dissolved into mush. "Kappei's dad."

Blond, charming, with a beauty made of cool fire, Yasuda Shigeru was the instigator of their moth-to-flame romance. Nightclub owner, gambler, lover of racing cars, lover of Shizuru, dead in a high-speed crash a year later, leaving her a widow with an infant son who grew into the image of his father. "Like I said, people die. They even die young. Happens all the time."

"And Fumihiko Kenichi? I kind of liked the guy. You're still technically married to him?"

She nodded absently.

"Where is he now?"

With that seemingly-innocent question, Shizuru's lost memory arced through her like electricity, jerked her to her feet.

"What is it?" Hiei shot to his feet along with her, as though connected by an invisible string. "What's wrong?"

"Kenichi! He's here! Today, now! I was supposed to----"

"Kenichi?" Hiei glanced out the window. "You don't mean he was downtown when---"

"No, here! In Shibuya! I tried to book a hotel room nearby but they were all full. I was supposed to meet him this morning near Youyougi Kouen," she said, scrabbling through her pockets. "He'll think I was in Meguro when the monster hit---"

"You were. Can't you get him on your Multicore?"

"Oh, no..." Shizuru ransacked her pockets, flinging cards, compact, and lipstick upon the table. "I left my bag at the hotel." She looked around the cafe. "Do they have a phone?"

"Don't need one." Hiei reached into his mantle.

"We were---I was trying to get back together with him." She barely managed to get the sentence out, and Shizuru knew that for all her self-control, she was on the verge of breaking down.

Poor dear Kenichi. An older man, owner of Three Roads Beauty Supply in Honshu. Homely but sweet-faced, smiling through his eyeglasses, smiling when he met the young widow on his buying trip to Tokyo. Smiling when they wed six months after that first meeting. A wonderful father to Kappei, who had known no other. Yet for all that, even 20-odd years later, she always nagged Kenichi to pull up stakes, move to Tokyo, to her old stomping grounds, to be near baby bro and Yukina and---

She put a hand to her face. "Why does it have to be this way? Why do I always get the short end of the stick?"

"Call him." Hiei extended Loki to Shizuru. "Listen, you," he warned it, "Do whatever this attractive blonde tells you. And if you do it with no lip, I will reconsider incinerating you."

"Y-yes, Lord Hiei," it quavered.

"Stop imitating that jaki and just help my sister-in-law." Then Hiei walked to the back of the cafe, pretending to be fascinated by the case of refrigerated drinks.

_How sweet_, she thought, _he's trying not to eavesdrop. _

_And if Hiei's not too old to change, neither am I. Think only of the mission, not who's wrong or right. This time I'll be the one to make amends. I'll even give up on moving back home. Maybe I can wrangle a visit to Tokyo now and then_.

Kenichi was overjoyed to hear from her. He had assumed she was trapped, even injured, by the 'disturbance' he had just heard about, and was in an agony of suspense.

The relief in his voice melted Shizuru's heart. Water once frozen by her mask of cynicism now flowed freely.

When she ended the call she motioned for Hiei to join her again at the table.

"Well?" He reached for the little device, which gave a comical wail of protest as Shizuru handed it over: "I like the pretty girl way better than you!"

"And I'm reconsidering my reconsideration," Hiei said.

Unashamed to let Hiei see her tears, Shizuru reported, "Kenichi's selling the shop in Honshu. It's already on the market. Once that's done, we're moving here. He said, and I quote: 'I can always buy another shop, but there's only one you.'" She dabbed her eyes with a paper napkin.

"He got that right."

Smoothing out the napkin, Shizuru regarded its intricate topography of seemingly random mountains and valleys. It reminded her of the art of origami, though she had never had any particular interest in paper-folding. But life was like that: sometimes people folded in, sometimes they folded out, to a pattern that had been established by a larger, unseen hand. And if you were lucky, they stayed folded with you.

Kenichi would be together with her again; hope sprang anew for her relationship with her estranged son. No one, not even as powerful a creature as Hiei, knew the hour of his death. Why waste time on foolish pride?

Pressing the napkin into a neat triangle, Shizuru placed it next to her cup, and gave Hiei a watery smile. "Well, I'd better get over to Kenichi's hotel."

"And I'd better be on my way too," Hiei said. He got Loki to call for a cab.

The door next to the refrigerator case creaked open. Out stumbled the shop's dazed barista. "Can I help you?" she inquired, shifting her wide-eyed gaze from Shizuru to Hiei.

Hiei lifted his coffee cup. "Already helped ourselves."

"Oh?"

"Money's on the counter."

"Oh?" She looked down at the counter. "Oh!"

Chuckling at the girl's astonishment, they made their way outside to wait.

Another yawn from Hiei. "I really have to go sleep this off," he mumbled. "Looks like I'll miss rehearsal altogether."

"You could always tell them you were busy saving the city."

Hiei snorted a laugh. At the north end of the street, a cab pulled into view.

_It's good to see Hiei again_, Shizuru thought, _even under such bizarre circumstances_. Maybe they could all get together for drinks later in the week. Maybe this wasn't such a bad day after all.

"You know..." Hiei slanted a look at her. "In the grand scheme of things, I just do the killing. Someone else will discover who opened a hole in the barrier and how. We have teams conducting the forensics, and more teams to assist in reweaving the world-shields. Time and talents, Shizuru. We could always use someone of your caliber."

When the cab stopped, Hiei opened the door and handed Shizuru into the back seat. She slid over to make room for him, but he remained on the pavement. With a puzzled glance, she asked, "You're not coming?"

He shook his head. "I have other means of transport."

"So it's good-bye?"

"For a little while. And you have pressing business of your own." He shut the door, turned away.

Shizuru took her compact from her pocket and opened it. She got out the broken butterfly clip, trying to arrange her hair as best she could. Then she shifted her focus until the mirror reflected Hiei, walking away.

The cab pulled from the curb, but Shizuru kept his stark black-and-white figure in view: the knight-errant who'd shown up again in the nick of time.

Hiei drew Loki from his pocket and spoke.

There was a brief pop of light, like a tiny firecracker going off, and then Hiei was gone, onto his next bit of errantry, and the cab took Shizuru to her future.

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(A/N, Part Deux: As far as the YYH manga/anime goes, the only thing Hiei was ever seen to eat or drink was a cup of coffee at the Dark Tournament hotel. And though it was never mentioned in the anime, in the manga Shizuru worked in a beauty parlor at the time of Yuusuke's first 'resurrection.'

This concludes _Portrait of the Demon At Age 50_. Scroll down for a preview of _The Book of Cat With Moon_, a story told entirely from the viewpoint of Chapter Black's Kaitou Yuu.)

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As if by magic, a sword appeared in the youth's grip, moonlight trickling down its length. "Don't you have anything better to do?" he inquired of the monster, in those same insolent tones. "Dragging me out of a sound sleep like this?"

"Not when a free lunch appears in front of me," it said.

"Dinner," corrected the swordsman. "At least get your mealtimes straight."

The beast roared in response, and then, by some ill happenstance, it turned its head toward Kaitou. Its eyes gleamed with a purplish phosphor as it sighted this easy new prey, this helpless human sans weapon. Slaver dripped from its fangs. It raised itself on its hind legs and took a step toward him.

_Why can't I scream?_

And then there must have been some sort of temporal dislocation, because without appearing to have moved at all, the swordsman was suddenly ten feet in back of the monster, facing away from it, sword extended behind him.

For a second or two, man and monster made a still life. Then the monster simply collapsed into numerous bloody hunks.

Kaitou sat there blinking.

On Kaitou's fourth blink, the swordsman swiveled to face the dismembered creature. He raised his left hand. A sheet of flame spurted from his hand to encompass the beast, reminding Kaitou of barbecue coals squirted with lighter fluid and plied with a blowtorch.

As he watched his handiwork, a golden glow of flames illuminated the contours of his tranquil face. A breeze wafted the acrid stink of burning flesh to Kaitou's nose.

This was no cook-out. It was, without doubt, the worst dream Kaitou had ever had. _I fell asleep on the bench. But I want to wake up now_.

The flames banked down to a simmer of ash. The swordsman turned his head, and his eyes met Kaitou's.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Kaitou could not move to save his life, and he had no doubt it would come to that.

The boy left the monster's ash-pile, drawing nearer to Kaitou with an unhurried gait as lazy as his voice. His right hand still gripped the sword.

Kaitou pictured the silver blade neatly bisecting him---there was so much less of him than there was of the monster that he would only be cleft in twain.

And following that, surely the boy's fire would ignite Kaitou's still-twitching flesh.

-30-


End file.
